New Beginnings
by KylaRyan
Summary: What if Mycroft Holmes had two younger brothers instead of one? Warning--Contains character death, alternate universe.


**A/N:** This was supposed to be a series of drabbles, not an actual story, but I just write what comes to mind and the end result was an actual series of stories....

**Chapter One: Birth Day**  
"The doctor's coming to tea today, Mycroft, so you'd better behave yourself and do as you're told without question," Morgana Holmes commanded her eldest son.  
"Is he bringing his whole family with him, Mother?" Mycroft asked. "Because if Isabella tries to kiss me one more time..."  
"Don't worry, Mycroft, Isabella won't be kissing you anymore," Morgana interrupted, sitting down in a nearby chair to rest her pregnant-worn body.  
"Is she dead?" the young boy asked with poorly disguised hopefulness.  
"Goodness, no," Morgana replied, hiding a grimace of pain as her unborn child moved about in her womb with nervous energy. "Doctor Blevins has sold his practice because he's getting on in years and is too old to be a country doctor."  
"So the new doctor is coming to tea then?" Mycroft deduced.  
Morgana nodded.  
"And he doesn't have any daughters, just a two year old boy who you will be keeping an eye on while his parents are at tea with your father and myself," she added.  
"I'm not a nursemaid, Mother," Mycroft reminded her.  
"It'll be excellent practice for when your sister is born, Mycroft," Morgana rebuked her son, skillfully moving the focus of his attention from babysitting the two year old son of the local doctor to the gender of his unborn sibling.  
"How can you be so sure that it's a girl, Mother?"  
"I just know, Mycroft," Morgana explained with a mildly feigned sigh.  
"How can you 'just know'?" Mycroft demanded.  
"It's a woman thing, son," declared his father, Matthew Holmes, as he entered Mycroft's room. "You'll never be able to understand it, no matter how often she explains it."  
"That reminds me, you still owe me five quid for that bet we made concerning Mycroft," Morgana remarked.  
"You made a bet about me?" Mycroft asked, stunned. He never pegged either of his parents as being the sort of people who made bets--about anything.  
"Your mother bet me five quid that you would break tradition and be a boy," Matthew explained.  
"So that's why your mother refused to speak to me for two years after Mycroft was born?" Morgana asked with a slight smirk.  
"You know quite well that she refused to speak to _both_ of us because we didn't name him after her father," Matthew pointed out.  
"Well, who could blame us? Montgomery is a perfectly _horrid_ first name," Morgana observed.  
Further debate was curtailed by the arrival of the doctor and his family.

* * *

"Mycroft, this is Doctor Watson's son, John," Morgana said.  
"Hello, John," Mycroft said by way of greeting.  
Wide hazel eyes, full of fear, looked up at him from behind Mrs. Watson's skirt in reply. Mycroft, not used to being around anyone younger (and therefore shorter) than him, towered over the two year old.  
Mrs. Watson laughed softly.  
"John's quite shy around strangers, Mycroft," she explained in her strange accent--Mycroft had never heard anyone from Edinburgh speak before.  
"I hope that we won't stay strangers for long," Mycroft suggested with false hopefulness. He did not plan on befriending this John Watson any time soon.  
"Go on, John," Mrs. Watson encouraged her son. "We'll be right here, having tea with Mycroft's parents. If you need anything, Mycroft can bring you back ta us."  
"Okay," John said meekly as he slowly came out from behind his mother to join Mycroft, who then led him up the stairs to the nursery.

* * *

It wasn't his fault that John was afraid of sudden loud noises. Nor was it his fault that the shelf of books came down off of the wall when it did.  
So why did he feel the need to insist to his parents that he was innocent--and over the pathetic whimpers of John?  
"It's alright, Mycroft, it was just an accident. You didn't mean to frighten John," his father said soothingly.  
Wait a minute...  
Why was his father the one calming his illogical hysteria? Where was his mother?  
"Mrs. Holmes, are you alright?" Doctor Watson asked, his voice full of medical concern.  
Breathless with painful excitement, Morgana Holmes waved off his concern.  
"I'm alright, Doctor," she insisted. "My unborn child has been restless all day."  
"You are experiencing contractions, Mrs. Holmes," Doctor Watson boldly countered. "This isn't your first time having a child, so why are you lying to me about the fact that you are in labor?"  
"There is no need for a doctor's presence as of yet," Morgana pointed out. "I have hours until--owww."  
"The contractions are becoming more frequent sooner than they did when Mycroft was born, am I right?" the doctor asked.  
Morgana nodded.  
"I am not surprised," the doctor admitted. "Labor is much prolonged for first time mothers."

* * *

Mycroft and John were sent off to bed--Mycroft in his own bed and John in the cradle that would eventually belong to Mycroft's younger brother or sister--around eight, but Morgana and Mrs. Watson both insisted that they both be woken up and brought to the master bedroom about an hour before dawn to be introduced to the newest member of humanity--Sherlock Montgomery Holmes.


End file.
